


the devotion of blackberries and smoke

by suheafoams



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: M/M, Unexpected Confessions, mob boss hongjoong x cop seonghwa, screams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suheafoams/pseuds/suheafoams
Summary: “I’m not an idiot, Hongjoong, even if you think I’m incapable of figuring out who’s behind this and incapable of coming up with a solution to dismantle this whole thing. I’m well aware of what goes on in my division because I’ve goteyesandearsand abasic understanding of body language. You don’t have to treat me like a child who doesn’t know any better about human nature. I don’t need that from you,” Seonghwa says.“I have never once doubted your abilities, and I’ve never thought you were stupid, either,” Hongjoong says, harshly, as he puts out his cigarette into the ash tray on the table. “Don’t put words I never said into my mouth.”(seonghwa doesn't see how thin the line is between love and hate until hongjoong crosses the one between them.)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 69
Kudos: 528





	the devotion of blackberries and smoke

Seonghwa holds his breath, annoyed, as he watches Hongjoong light a cigarette. If it were anyone else, he’d have told them to quit or simply avoided them any time they smoked, but Hongjoong is not the sort of person who can be ordered around even when it comes to the habits that can kill him, and he still has information that’s useful to Seonghwa. 

They’re in Hongjoong’s flat, a white, modern building located in the hills that looks nondescript from the outside but is stacked with layers of system-wide security and constant surveillance from the inside. As much as Seonghwa hates to admit it, he’s been here so many times that Hongjoong’s guards don’t even blink at the sight of him anymore, whether he’s in his work uniform or his own more casual clothes. 

He’s out of uniform today, dressed instead in a black sweater and black jeans in order to avoid raising suspicions in case anyone from work saw him while he was on the way to meeting Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong, in some ways, is also out of uniform. He’s shed the large fur coat that he wears to make himself look bigger and more authoritative even if he doesn’t really need an article of clothing for people to know he’s dangerous. He’s taken off his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt, too, showing enough chest and collarbone that the exposure leans towards indecent, but Seonghwa is not going to lecture Hongjoong on his sartorial choices when there are more important things to discuss. 

Hongjoong runs his hand through his hair, freshly dyed a shade of black so dark that the strands don’t catch light at all. Just last week it had been a fiery red, but there’d been an unexpected ambush that left him with the graze of a bullet that was meant to go into his heart, so he’d taken Seonghwa’s advice to go for a more inconspicuous look, but not without some reluctance. 

“Quit this case,” Hongjoong says, exhaling smoke to the side so that Seonghwa is spared from the scent. 

“What?” Seonghwa frowns. “No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” Hongjoong says, and sighs. The smoke surrounding him lingers for a few moments before it slowly starts to fade. “You can’t just be obedient and listen to me?” 

Not this again. Fury flares up in Seonghwa, pulsing hot and heavy through his veins as he curls his hands into fists. Things could be easy between them if Hongjoong would just cooperate, and do as Seonghwa asked of him and take what Seonghwa gives back, but Hongjoong is unpredictable in so many ways that Seonghwa should know better than to rely on someone with a moral compass that changes direction as soon as circumstances shift. 

Hongjoong is always like this. Always tries to tell Seonghwa what to do, always interferes with Seonghwa’s methods of investigations out of some lofty sense of _disapproval_ when he runs one of the biggest crime syndicate groups in the country. It’s like he thinks Seonghwa’s too stupid or too noble to get anything right, despite the fact that he knows Seonghwa had graduated with the highest scores of his year at the police academy, despite the fact that he’s been witness to all of the case breakthroughs Seonghwa’s been responsible for securing these last few months. 

Seonghwa is not some puppy or one of Hongjoong’s mindless right-hand men for Hongjoong to order around, even if Hongjoong possesses the information and tip-offs to what Seonghwa is looking for right now. They have an agreement to exchange information that comes with an implied understanding not to get too involved in each other’s business, but Hongjoong keeps going askew just to make sure Seonghwa can’t get anything properly done and Seonghwa can’t figure out _why_. 

“No, I can’t,” Seonghwa says, louder, and Hongjoong narrows his eyes. 

“I always forget how difficult you are,” Hongjoong says, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. His fingers are adorned with rings of varying designs and thicknesses, all in a silver finish, and if they’re still on this late in the evening, it means that no one in his group made any unforgivable mistakes today. “Is it just your curiosity that makes you want to see this to the end? Your desire to be a hero when everyone else is simply trying to survive?” 

“I don’t want to be a hero, and I’m not doing this just because I’m _curious,_ ” Seonghwa says, scowling. “Are you trying to turn my attention away from this case so that you can keep on running your business as usual? So that none of your men will get in trouble, while innocent children and women out there are getting kidnapped and killed for no fucking reason other than the fact that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?” 

Hongjoong laughs wryly in response to Seonghwa’s outburst. “You think I’m scared of the police? You think I’m afraid of losing a few of my men to prison, when half of them aren’t loyal to me to begin with?” he asks. “If that were the case, I’d have quit doing what I do a long time ago. And didn’t I tell you that we’re already working on reducing the power on the 1117 group? Why can’t you just be patient—” 

“Patient? You have the audacity to talk about patience when the chance of survival gets smaller and smaller for these people with every second we waste?” Seonghwa says, and then he loses his temper, because Hongjoong keeps staring at him with that undefinable, guarded look that never seems to mean anything, and Seonghwa is tired of being civil to a man who never reacts to even the most caustic of words, who rejects empathy and compassion, who refuses to show even an _ounce_ of emotion even when he’s nearly bleeding to death. “Then again, I don’t know why I bother talking to someone who never had high morals to begin with. You probably don’t care how many people get killed because of you, probably don’t even bat an eyelash—” 

Hongjoong’s eyes flash, resentful and livid. Seonghwa is supposed to find satisfaction in the sliver of rage Hongjoong can’t hold himself back from showing, but he only feels guilty that he’s made Hongjoong lose control over words Seonghwa doesn’t actually mean. 

“You want to talk about morals when the police workforce is _infested_ with people just as bad as me?” Hongjoong’s tone of voice is cold. Tired. Bitter. He’s angry, but more than that, he’s upset with Seonghwa for pouring salt into a wound that’s never, ever healed. “See how far you get on your own, with your beloved, morally superior authorities turning a blind eye to all the suffering that could be prevented, simply because of their own selfishness and fear and greed.” 

Seonghwa is well aware that there are higher ups in his own division who are taking every measure necessary to prevent certain high profile cases from being solved. He’s aware that it’s dangerous for him to pursue the very case they want him to brush off the most, but he cares more about seeking justice for those who have no means of obtaining it themselves than sitting in his cubicle and being the agreeable cop who never questions why his reports all go mysteriously missing. He doesn’t need Hongjoong’s condescending reminders that horrible people exist alongside of them and get away with it, not when Seonghwa is already fighting so desperately against that kind of evil in an ongoing uphill battle. 

“It’s all the same no matter where I go. The police have an agenda, just like your group does, just like any other organization that exists,” Seonghwa says, taking in a deep breath so that he doesn’t let his own bottled up frustration over this case manifest itself in the form of words that hurt Hongjoong any further. “I’m not an idiot, Hongjoong, even if you think I’m incapable of figuring out who’s behind this and incapable of coming up with a solution to dismantle this whole thing. I’m well aware of what goes on in my division because I’ve got _eyes_ and _ears_ and _a basic understanding of body language_. You don’t have to treat me like a child who doesn’t know any better about human nature. I don’t need that from you.” 

“I have never once doubted your abilities, and I’ve never thought you were stupid, either,” Hongjoong says, harshly, as he puts out his cigarette into the ash tray on the table. “Don’t put words I never said into my mouth.” 

“Then why do you keep butting in?” Seonghwa asks. His voice is so loud that he’s almost worried Hongjoong’s guards are going to come in, but conflicts in Hongjoong’s group are probably common enough that they won’t be set off by one measly police officer fighting with their leader, who’s capable of inflicting lethal damage without anyone’s assistance. “Why do you keep telling me to quit this case when you know how important it is? Not just to me, but for all the victims that are involved?” 

When Hongjoong looks directly at Seonghwa, there’s a dismissive nonchalance to his gaze, so familiar that Seonghwa would be able to recall and recreate that expression from memory alone. In any other situation, it would mean that Hongjoong’s using the least amount of effort possible to show that he doesn’t care, but right now, that nonchalance is undermined by the clear tenseness in his jaw, the worried curl of his bottom lip.

“You want to know the real reason?” he asks. Seonghwa looks closer, and realizes Hongjoong’s knuckles are starting to pale from how hard Hongjoong is gripping his own fingers. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa says. “If it’s going to affect your ability to run your group’s activities, then I don’t need your help. I won’t make things difficult for you moving forward, since I shouldn’t have relied on the mob as a source of information to begin with.”

There’s a beat of silence before Hongjoong speaks. 

“It’s because I care about you,” he admits, finally, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen. 

Stunned, Seonghwa searches Hongjoong’s face for further answers, further clarifications, but he finds none. “What?” 

“I interfere because that’s the only way I can protect you,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa just... gapes at him. This conversation is not taking the turn that he’d originally expected. He’d expected Hongjoong to be playing games with him, for Hongjoong to be going after Seonghwa’s personal missions in order to protect what crucial information might be revealed about his own group, but not this. “I show up at all these inconvenient moments because they’ve noticed there’s a pattern to us appearing in the same area at the same time, and they’re starting to realize that if they harm you in any way, they’ll have to deal with me.” 

“Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa thinks about all the times he’d been in danger and had never admitted it to anyone else, only to have Hongjoong come in at the right moment for him to avoid getting injured or tortured or killed. The time he’d passed out behind an alley after getting shot at in a stakeout gone wrong, and had woken up in an unfamiliar, soft bed with Hongjoong staring at him quietly, fingers curled around Seonghwa’s wrist for who knows how long as he waited for Seonghwa to fully wake. 

Seonghwa hadn’t realized how far Hongjoong had been going to protect him, would never have realized if Hongjoong didn’t come right out and say it because Hongjoong reveals so little of himself through words and even less through his facial expressions. His signals have been mixed, because he’ll tell Seonghwa to take on easier cases and to go do some paperwork for once instead of tackling the bad guys alone like an idiot, but he’s always, _always_ there when Seonghwa needs him the most, as if he knows Seonghwa won’t listen and he’s just resigned himself to making sure Seonghwa doesn’t die on his watch. 

“You’re too smart for your own good, and I know what the 1117 group is capable of doing to ruin your life if they’re kind enough to even let you keep it,” Hongjoong explains. “I don’t butt in because I want you to fail, I butt in because I don’t want to see you die, you dumbass.” 

“I…” Seonghwa trails off, still in disbelief that for so long, he’d believed Hongjoong only harbored ill feelings towards him, all while Hongjoong had been worrying and looking after Seonghwa secretly because he didn’t want Seonghwa to get killed. “I thought you hated me.” 

“No,” Hongjoong says, looking down. “I thought you were naive at first, but I started finding you… tolerable after the first few incidents where you kept trying to pin me as the prime suspect for murder.” 

“I’m very sorry about that,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong snorts. “Not my best investigative work, you see.” 

“To be fair, you weren’t too far off,” Hongjoong says, since the actual killer in that case had been one of the younger members of his group, once the police had managed to acquire a final piece of evidence with his DNA on it and put the puzzle pieces together. “But it was amusing, too, to see how annoying you could get when you really wanted something, even though I knew you were wrong from the start. And then I started getting worried when you would go off to find information by yourself because I knew you would get hurt, so I would track your whereabouts and get involved only if I needed to.” 

“I can’t believe this whole time you were being the Hongjoong version of nice,” Seonghwa says, earning a mild-natured glare from Hongjoong. “You always have this look on your face that makes me feel like you’re deciding whether or not you want to stab me.” 

“Because I probably am,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa scrunches his nose at him. “I just need you to stay alive, so I can at least dream about kissing you, but you constantly throw yourself into danger without ever stopping to think about how you’ll make it back out alive and it stresses me the _fuck_ out.”

The words come out of him naturally and casually, and Seonghwa is about to reply with a snide quip before he fully processes what Hongjoong’s said, which is around the same time Hongjoong realizes his own slip-up. 

“Wait,” Seonghwa says, as Hongjoong averts his eyes. “You’re… are you in love with me?” 

“No,” Hongjoong says, but he backs up when Seonghwa leans into his personal space, and thanks to a recent, layered haircut that leaves Hongjoong’s ears completely exposed, Seonghwa can see the way they flush bright crimson. “Don’t come near me.”

It’s not like there’s much room for Hongjoong to escape anyway, when he’s sitting on a sofa chair with his knees brought up to his chest and Seonghwa is crowding in on him, arms on either side of Hongjoong. 

Things are suddenly very clear, now that Seonghwa looks back on all of the tension and charge to even the simplest of their conversations, and realizes that his ever present desire to defy and challenge Hongjoong’s expectations of him were mixed in with a little (or a lot of) attraction along with a base need for approval. It’s just that Seonghwa’s never noticed it until now, that he was searching for acceptance and affection through the resolutions of their conflicts, as much as their conflicts generally only consisted of Seonghwa getting upset and causing a scene and Hongjoong subsequently shrugging Seonghwa’s words off of him like water droplets rolling off a leaf. They would get equally snippy with each other, sometimes, but they’d never been at each other’s throats like today. 

“Why not?” Seonghwa asks, mentally reviewing Hongjoong’s behavior towards him from the last few months to see where his own interpretation had gone wrong. “Why don’t you want me to get close?” 

“Because as fun as it might be for you to figure out that a guy like me fell in love with a guy like you,” Hongjoong says, his voice remaining monotone almost perfectly all the way through that initial phrase before it cracks and betrays the slightest tinge of insecurity, “these feelings bring me nothing but trouble, and I don’t have time to be humoring you and your games if you want to ridicule me for it.” 

“What if I don’t want to ridicule you for your feelings?” Seonghwa asks, and waits for Hongjoong’s eyes to meet his before he continues speaking. Hongjoong looks so… uncertain, so insecure. Seonghwa is not used to seeing an emotion like that on the face of a man who has killed and almost been killed for the sake of a group he’s devoted himself to for life. “What if I want something else?” 

“Don’t flirt with me,” Hongjoong says dully. “I don’t expect anything from you, so you can pretend we didn’t have this conversation today.” 

Although it’s obvious that he’s nervous, he is still so... hard to read, and Seonghwa attributes it to Hongjoong having to filter all of his emotions in front of people who expect him to be powerful and ruthless at all times. Even then, Seonghwa doesn’t want to understand Hongjoong any less; he wants to be able to feel what Hongjoong is thinking and going through just from their skin touching, their eyes locking, and he thinks it’ll be possible if Hongjoong lets him stick around long enough to learn. 

Seonghwa knows their respective careers make them a match made in hell. Knows that giving into this is just as stupid as every mission he’s done secretly by himself without reporting to another police officer or any of his bosses, but for some reason, leaving things as they are feels wrong, too, when Seonghwa has traced the curve of Hongjoong’s side profile with his eyes frequently enough to lose count, when Seonghwa has faked the extent of his fatigue several times after being rescued just so he has a few more moments with a Hongjoong who’s concerned and upset over his injuries, before mob boss Hongjoong returns and resumes acting cold and heartless just because his image was forced into that tight, suffocating box of a persona since he was young. 

And somehow, Seonghwa thinks Hongjoong can see the transition of thought and perspective shift on his face, because Hongjoong looks less embarrassed now and more defeated, like he knows exactly where Seonghwa’s train of thought has decided to stop at and doesn’t have the energy to fight it. 

Hongjoong lets Seonghwa kiss him, lips gradually parting with a soft sigh to give Seonghwa even more access to the inside of his mouth, and he whines low and quiet when Seonghwa grabs a loose fistful of his hair and tugs. He tastes like smoke and blackberries and mint, a dark sweetness that Seonghwa wants to fill up his lungs and veins to the brim with until he’s breathing and bleeding essence made of Hongjoong and only Hongjoong, and Seonghwa doesn’t think about anything except how he can pull Hongjoong closer so that they can melt into each other faster.

Hongjoong is the one to pull away and force both of them to take a breath, though, once they’ve kissed enough to leave each other’s mouths raw and stinging. He watches Seonghwa in silence, contemplating something, and Seonghwa forces himself to stay still even though he would really rather give in to the urge to fidget, or maybe go back to kissing Hongjoong again. The sofa isn’t big enough for two people, to be honest, but the two of them aren’t very large in stature so Seonghwa makes it work by tucking his calves in and fitting his legs on either side of Hongjoong’s thigh. 

“You’re not going to quit the case, are you?” Hongjoong finally asks, but he says it more like a statement, and Seonghwa shakes his head. 

“No. I’m not quitting,” Seonghwa says, before he adds, “Not unless you quit dealing in what your group does currently.” 

Hongjoong furrows his brow. “That’s… this is my life, Seonghwa.” 

“And this is mine,” Seonghwa says, which has Hongjoong releasing a shaky exhale. “So aren’t we the same in the end?” 

“No,” Hongjoong says, gaze sharpening. “We’re not the same. Seonghwa, you have options. If you just _behave_ for a little bit, you won’t be in danger anymore, and you’re smart enough that it would be easy for you to get a high enough position where you don’t have to put your life at risk every time I’m not watching you—” 

“You’re talking too much,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong huffs at the interruption. Seonghwa usually doesn’t interrupt people when they’re speaking, but he’s more interested in getting his hands and mouth on Hongjoong again, and making sure Hongjoong stops overthinking about the things that they can talk about later in detail. “And you know I know that, don’t you? I choose to do the right thing not because I think I’ll be rewarded for it, not because I want to eventually obtain power or authority over other people, but because I believe it’s what I have to do.” 

“Once you have power, then you’ll be able to do what you think is right. And even then, right and wrong are relative,” Hongjoong mutters. But then his eyes soften, right at Seonghwa, and Seonghwa doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to see such a rare side of Hongjoong. “I guess that’s what makes you different from other people, that you go all in for the causes you believe in, acting like everything’s going to be rainbows and sunshine even when you know what you’re getting yourself into is going to hurt you.” 

“I can’t hold back just because I’m afraid,” Seonghwa says, biting his lip. “If everyone let their fear control them, we wouldn’t be able to help anyone else, not even ourselves.” 

“I know,” Hongjoong says. “I know, Seonghwa, just like I know how much this case means to you, but what about the people who love you? You can’t be selfish for one moment and consider how much hurt you would leave behind for other people if something happened to you?” 

It’s the most open version of Hongjoong Seonghwa has ever experienced, both in words and in facial expressions, and as much as he knows that Hongjoong feels things, just forces himself not to show the evidence, Seonghwa’s still caught by surprise that Hongjoong is so terrified of loss when he’s lived a life that’s been full of it from the very start. 

“Does it scare you that much?” Seonghwa asks, gently. “To lose me, when you’ve lost people who have been in your life way longer?” 

“I can live without you, but it doesn’t mean I want to,” Hongjoong says, voice going a little ragged. His fingernails dig into Seonghwa’s clothed arms, so tightly and desperately that he might have broken skin and drawn blood if Seonghwa wasn’t wearing long sleeves. “I’ve survived being shot and stabbed and everything in between, and as much as I hate all the shit I have to go through because of your nonsense, I don’t want to have to wake up one morning and think about not seeing you ever again. Loss doesn’t hurt any less just because I’ve been through it more than once, and I don’t want to go through it with you, Seonghwa, so please don’t fucking make me.” 

“I won’t,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong’s eyes are glassy when he looks up at Seonghwa. “I’ll be careful. So...”

“What?” Hongjoong says, when Seonghwa’s pause stretches too long and turns into a sentence punctuated by silence. Hongjoong’s unexpected honesty has left an ache Seonghwa doesn’t think is going to go away any time soon, and Seonghwa is still reeling from the aftershock. 

“You said I like to act like everything’s going to be rainbows and sunshine even if I know I’m getting myself into something difficult or dangerous,” Seonghwa says. “Can I... be like that with you, too? Am I allowed to dive in even though I know there are consequences waiting for me at the bottom?” 

For a brief moment, Hongjoong’s mask of indifference falters just enough that he looks openly torn between hitting Seonghwa and kissing him. (Seonghwa hopes Hongjoong chooses the latter, eventually.)

“Isn’t it pointless for you to be so intelligent when you’re blindly optimistic to the point of having no self-preservation?” he asks, and Seonghwa grins at him. 

It’s not that Seonghwa is blindly optimistic. His line of work makes it so that he never expects happy or even safe endings when he needs to report to a location of a dispatch call that got cut off, always expects the worst in an active chase even though their self-defense protocol is ingrained in him by muscle memory and his body will react faster than his brain in case something goes wrong. He still has trouble sleeping some nights when he can’t get events from years ago out of his mind, and he holds the hand of fear every time he takes a step into a dimly lit alley and has to hope for the best because he knows that he’s good at protecting himself but not entirely invincible. 

But Seonghwa refuses to let the fear of attachment, of loss, of pain, deter him from living in the moment when that’s the only thing he can do to try and grasp at happiness. There’s never any guarantee that he’ll live longer by hiding from all the things that can hurt him, so he treats each day as not necessarily his last, but another day to make significant change, to add what little good he can offer to the world as well as himself so that he doesn’t ever have to look back with regrets. 

He knows what it will mean to fall in love with Hongjoong _fully,_ knows that the affection they give each other is always going to have an undertone of uncertainty in case there’s a day where one of them doesn’t come back. He’s seen the bullet wounds on Hongjoong’s torso and the long jagged scar across his chest carved by a knife blade, knows perfectly well that the scars on his own body probably make Hongjoong worry just as much even though Hongjoong’s been through worse. 

It doesn’t make Seonghwa want Hongjoong any less. Hongjoong has this smile, sometimes, that slips out when he’s not paying attention, where all his teeth show and his eyes scrunch up and he looks like the twenty-six year old that he is for once and not a man too young to be burdened with the weight of an entire mob group’s fate on his shoulders. It usually comes out when he’s dressed in more casual clothes, like soft, slinky shirts with too-long sleeves that give him sweater paws and make him look ultra huggable, and when his hair’s unstyled and sticking out in all directions from a nap he hadn’t meant to take at his desk. 

That memory of Hongjoong provides a stark contrast to the man underneath Seonghwa right now, who’s dressed in black silk and expensive denim and cold metal jewelry, staring up at him carefully like Seonghwa is going to burst into flames if they so much as touch hands. 

When they’d first met, Seonghwa had only felt that Hongjoong was a man with too much money, full of threats and no substance, because he’d asked Seonghwa to contact his lawyers every time Seonghwa’d merely _looked_ at him, had remained completely closed off no matter what methods Seonghwa resorted to in order to make him open up. It was only after months of unwanted and coincidental run-ins between them that he’d started to realize Hongjoong was simply a child who’d grown up too soon, overnight even, forced to take on the role of a leader after the previous head of the group had passed away and left all of his possessions to Hongjoong against the elders’ wishes. That Hongjoong’s skewed moral compass is a byproduct of his personal circumstances, and that Hongjoong feels emotions just as strongly and vividly as anyone else even if he’s conditioned himself into believing otherwise. 

“You have enough self-preservation that you can afford to share some of it with me, right?” Seonghwa asks. 

“No,” Hongjoong says, watching as Seonghwa laces their fingers together. He doesn’t pull away, which Seonghwa counts as a personal victory. “If I share what little self-preservation I have, we’re both going to start making bad decisions instead of just you. And this is a bad decision. We shouldn’t—” 

“Okay, then how about this,” Seonghwa interrupts again, and Hongjoong makes a noise of irritation at him, which Seonghwa compensates for by petting Hongjoong gently on the arm. “I can share my courage with you, and you can share your common sense, your self-preservation with me. Deal?” 

“That’s not how it works,” Hongjoong complains, but he doesn't protest when Seonghwa mouths at the junction of skin between his ear and jaw. “Seonghwa, you’re so…” he laughs, and Seonghwa hadn’t realized that he was waiting for a signal like that until it happens, and the tension seeps out of his own shoulders instantly at the way Hongjoong has finally given in to him, the sound of his amusement broad and vast and unrestrained. 

Seonghwa smiles. “I’m so what?” 

“We need to talk this through,” Hongjoong says, like he’s trying to be stern, but Seonghwa doesn’t miss the way Hongjoong’s eyes keep lingering on his mouth. As a result, Seonghwa wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s neck, perfectly aware of how distracting he can be as he watches Hongjoong stumble over his words in the middle of saying, “You need to think this through.” 

“Bravery now, self-preservation and logic later,” Seonghwa suggests as a compromise, nuzzling at the side of Hongjoong’s face. “Okay? Bad decision or good decision?” 

Hongjoong shivers, and it’s obvious he’s not used to physical contact like this, warm and undemanding instead of purely violent or threatening or sexual. It won’t matter, though, because Seonghwa’s going to get him used to being touched without Hongjoong’s body automatically going into fight or flight mode. 

“Okay. Good decision,” Hongjoong says, quietly, his eyelashes fluttering as their faces get too close to each other and he grows embarrassed, and Seonghwa presses even closer, so that they’re chest to chest, before he leans in to chase the taste of blackberries and smoke once again. 

  
  



End file.
